Behind White Eyes
by TsunOfDere
Summary: Side stories for my main fic White Eyes.  Blue Nightmare: His nightmares were filled with cerulean blood. • Light Breath  nsfw : "First one to undress wins." • Making of History: Mindfang and the Summoner's past.
1. Blue Nightmare

_Side story for my fic White Eyes. This part is linked to chapter 6._

_**WARNING:** quite a lot of blood._

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><p>Story 1 – Blue nightmare<p>

_Even though he slept often in his dream bubble, Tavros seldom had nightmares. But when he did, it was always the same one. It wasn't a dream that haunted him – it was a memory._

_His nightmares were filled with cerulean blood. It always started at the same time: Vriska laid in front of him, dying. Agonizing. Everything was covered in her blood. She had taken control of his hand to write her begging demands for a swift death. All he could was watch his own fingers urging him to kill her. He felt her psychic powers grew weaker by the minute – his body was full of her agony._

_He knew he had to do it. He had so many reasons to do it. But when he took his lance out of his strife specibus, he immediately started to feel sick. And the gut-wrenching sensation was growing stronger and stronger. The metal of the weapon felt burning hot against his palm. He wanted to let go. But he held on so as to fulfill her last request. He got closer, right above her. She opened an eye with difficulty._

_When she saw him with his lance, she closed her eye and cracked a tired smile. He wanted to throw up. Something in him was preventing him from putting an end to her suffering. He felt dizzy, and tears were coming up to his eyes. His whole body was shaking. That was when he started hearing it:_

"Don't kill her… Don't kill Mindfang…"

_It was a man's voice, unknown yet somehow familiar. Rufio? No, even he knew full well Rufio wasn't real. But that wasn't his main concern._

_He was scared. Genuinely scared. Of what he could do. Of what he _should_ do._

"Pl…ease…"

_Her voice was barely audible, but since she was just beneath him, he could hear it. She frowned, in an effort to muster her psychic strength. His left hand suddenly moved, bringing the tip of his lance just above the symbol on her shirt. His tears started to fall on her skin, brown barely washing away any of the blue she was covered in. He heard himself say _"Mindfang…"_ He felt that she had taken control of his free hand, and could only stand in horror as it raised to his face, tracing letters on his forehead. Even if he couldn't see it directly, he understood what she was writing._

'K8LL M8'

_He faltered: he didn't know why, but he couldn't do it. Even now._

_Before he knew it, his hand threw the lance away, and he fell down beside her, his body shaken by tears._

"I'm sorry Vriska… I can't kill you…"

_She was probably too weak to speak again now – but she was still alive. He felt that she was trying to make his hands strangle her neck with her psychic powers._

"Please… No…" _he begged, more desperate about this than he probably should._

_He bit his right arm, in hopes he would regain full control of his hands. It worked, so he proceeded to dig his claws in his left arm, and backed off, bleeding and tripping on the floor made slippery with Vriska's blood. But the brown blood was but a drop in a blue ocean._

_One last time, she took over his hands, probably to write messages for him, he though – but it was only a long, painful scream that she couldn't voice anymore._

_Then it stopped._

_He fell down, panting, crying, bleeding. He had to leave. He dragged himself to his vehicle painfully, still feeling sick. Once on board, he turned the engine on to leave, and once he was far away enough, he broke down into tears once again._

_He was a coward._

"Thanks for not killing her, I'm proud of you," _the unknown voice in his mind said._

_After that, he only heard it again once, when he confronted Vriska on the meteor._

_He still felt like a coward._


	2. Light Breath

Side chapter for my main fic "White Eyes". This chapter is nsfw. It takes place right between chapter 6 and 7 of White Eyes.

Also, this is why I shouldn't be allowed to write smut.

(I'm trying out a new narrating style here using 2nd person, I hope you will enjoy it)

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><p>Story 2 – Light Breath<p>

"First one to undress wins."

_Even though you said that, you are growing nervous with each article of clothing you remove. Had you been human, you would feel exactly like how a dog chasing cars would feel if he actually caught one: "Now what?"._

_In the end, you both take off your clothes separately, still too embarrassed to watch the other strip. Once in the nude, you are still nervous as hell, so you pretend to be folding your clothes to delay the moment you will have to turn around and face him. Maybe you could just walk away. You could totally go back to your dream bubble stark naked. Yes, that seems like a good plan. But his voice stops you:_

"Vriska? Are you, uh, ready?"

_You gulp down, looking at your feet._

"…..Yeah."

_But you don't move an inch. You hear footsteps behind you, and a warm hand clasps yours, your fingers firmly intertwined with his._

"Do you want to turn around?"

_His voice is gentle, but you can't help the shaking skimming through your bare limbs. Despite that, you nod gingerly. He delicately kisses your shoulder, his lips brushing against your skin in direction of your neck – you barely repress a moan. You can feel his breath on you, the warmth of his body so close behind you (yet so far), and the desire welling up in yours. You want him – you are sure of that – and you hate being scared of that. Somewhere along your neck, he whispers somewhat mischievously:_

"Advance or abscond?"

_Your train of thought suddenly goes off tracks. You chortle in disbelief._

"I can't believe you just said that."

_He chuckles softly against your neck, and you slightly bite your lower lip._

"Your answer?" _he asks, kissing you again. He is cheating – how could you possibly back off, now that things were slowly getting so deliciously exciting?_

_You take a deep breath, holding his hand. It will be okay. You will make it okay. There's nothing to fear – after all, even death is no longer a problem._

"Let's do this."

_Your hands part and you finally turn around. Your guts are tightly knitted together when your eyes rise to meet his. You blink a little bit, and crack a smile. He smiles too, but you can see that despite the bravado from earlier, he is as flushed as physically possible. He doesn't even bother to pretend he isn't flustered._

"Stop staring at me…!" _you scold._

"Ah, uh, s-sorry, I c-can't help it! I mean, you're really beautiful so I–"

_You nearly choke. Why is he always like this? Always blurting out this kind of things out of the blue. You secretly suspect he does that on purpose._

"I- Idiot," _you weakly protest, nuzzling against him anyway. You feel warm all over, and now that you were like this, you felt safe. And after all, the embarrassment was shared since he was also nak— Oh, right. You had almost forgotten, but now that realization was painted all over your face in bright blue, and you're suddenly very tense._

_Don't look at his bulge, don't look at his bulge, don't—_

_Fuck, you looked. It was only for a split second, but that's enough._

_Well at least, he is more than ready and willing. You immediately want to punch yourself in the face for having had this thought. Unfortunately, you can't retrieve your arms, for they tightly wrapped around him._

_Alright, calm down Vriska, you look pathetic._

"_After all, you will see it in even more details sooner or later, right?" whispers a voice at the back of your mind. This thought would have killed you if Terezi hadn't already taken care of that._

_Your hands leave the small of Tavros' back to cup his face and your lips go to meet his, kissing away your apprehension – his too, you can feel it. His hands, which were resting on your hips, slowly slide upward, caressing your ribs. Just as he is about to reach your breasts, he hesitates. You look at him, your breath heavy with desire and whisper in a husky voice you don't recognize:_

"Don't tease me…"

_He silently gulps down, and his hands slide upwards to cup your breasts, his fingers brushing them delicately as if they were made of crystal. He's a bit clumsy, but it progressively improves, as he gets rid of his last apprehensions. You never thought the feeling of foreign hands on your skin would be so electrifying – fuck. You're hungry for more, so much more. You want to make him feel the same way you do, to hear him moan, to feel his muscles grow tense under your touch._

_You plant a kiss on his neck, nibbling lovingly his skin. The second you do, he presses your breasts harder, and you feel his breath getting irregular along with yours._

_He mumbles your name, so you raise your head to face him; he smiles and nuzzles you._

_You stare at him wide-eyed, a bit surprised by such a gesture in those circumstances. What kind of teasing is that? You're almost starting to get annoyed, when he whispers "Just kidding" and starts kissing you passionately._

_Okay, that was kind of cute. He's half forgiven._

_He tentatively pinches the tip of your breasts, and you instantly forget that you were mad at him in the first place. You even reward him with a loud moan that leaves no mystery as to whether you enjoy this._

_You lightly press your hands against his torso to lead him to a more comfortable setting – namely the couch. You have him seat all the way in and he stares at you, half confused, half impatient. You crack a smile, admiring him as he lies in front of you, ripe for the picking._

_Maybe that was why you had thrown him off that cliff – because you somehow knew that if you spent too much time with him, you would end up feeling irremediably red for him. That you would want to swallow him whole, and would never get enough to satisfy your hunger. At the time, you hated that idea; past you didn't know any better, what an idiot. But you knew – or were about to, anyway._

_You settle yourself on his lap, leaning on his broad shoulders in the process. You're straddling him in what could be considered a quite risqué position – especially for you. But the look of utter desire in his eyes is worth so much more than a passing shame – shame that you actually fail to feel, so aroused you are by the whole setting. Your heart is thumping in your chest ridiculously hard, and your whole body is almost imploding with barely contained need. You want him so much it's almost painful – but it's a pain so dizzying, so good – probably because it is so easy to satisfy it right here and now._

_He bites his lower lip, and pulls you into a heated kiss. Your breasts are all against his chest – whenever did he get that muscular? You don't know, but damn he looks so handsome. Your hands travel down his torso, and you feel him shiver against you because you both know where they are going. He interrupts the kiss when you wrap your hand around his bulge, his head dropping on his chest and his eyes closing half-way._

_You whisper somewhat mischievously _"Keep your eyes open"_ and use your free hand to reorient his look toward yours. You feel nearly ecstatic as you tease him like this, varying speed and pressure as you damn well please, observing delightfully the different expressions that you pry from his toffee-colored face. You want to see all the emotions he can show, all of them. Your lips meet at times – your kisses don't last long, but they are plenty, almost matching the pace of your hand stroking his bulge. Even then, your eyes are wide open to observe him. You love to see the effect you have on him, to know that this sweat, this tension in his whole body, this daze in his eyes, have all been created by you._

_He digs a bit his claws in your lower back when he finally comes. Your chest is quite a mess, covered with all this genetic material, and he immediately apologizes._

"Ah, sorry, I– uh…"

_You smile._

"It's not a problem – I did that on purpose after all."

_You stand up to go grab your t-shirt, and proceed to use it to get rid of the light brown staining you. Once you're done, you roll it up into a ball and throw it away, turning to him. He looks at you, and finally says:_

"This is… kind of lewd…"

_You smirk._

"I know, right? … Does it bother you?"

_He cracks a smile, half-shy, half-contented._

"Not at all."

"That's what I thought." _you murmur as his hands join yours to bring you back to him. _

_As soon as your bodies come together, everything starts over: the tension, the want, the need for everything. Your limbs are a tangled mess, but none of you gives a flying fuck about this. Your whispers are full of sweetness and utter lust, said under your breath into each other's ears, neck, and mouth. _

_He seems to hesitate when he is about to penetrate you._

"What's wrong?"_ you ask, even if you know why he's holding back._

_He winces._

"I don't want to hurt you…"

_You look away, slightly frowning._

"I'll be fine, just do it already."

_The pain is sharp, causing you to wince a little bit – but you've felt worse, so you carry on. You're too used to pain to let it affect you. He stops moving anyway._

"Are you okay Vriska?"

"If you stop, I'll kill you"_, you hiss, clinging to him._

"But we're already de–––"

"Yes I'm fine"_, you say, interrupting him, along with an impatient thrust of your hips, your legs wrapped around him. He kisses you again, maybe as an apology, and steadies himself before slowly moving his hips. You put your arms around his neck, and your lips on his throat, kissing, nibbling, almost sucking on it. His body stiffens slightly, and he accelerates slightly the pace of his comings and goings. When you feel he is getting closer to climax, you use your legs to make him slow down. You do this once, then twice, and he understands you do this on purpose. You smirk, and he returns a fierce grin, as if to say he accepted to play that little game of yours. He changes his position all of a sudden, freeing himself from your legs that were locked around him. His hands graze along your waist, and grab mercilessly your hips._

_He is getting restless, and this sudden rush of roughness makes your heart go mad with a mix of slight fear and utter excitement. And your expectations aren't betrayed: his thrusts are so much stronger, so much eager – absolutely different from the hesitation he had at first._

_You feel so good right now that your feelings are nothing but a messy pile of intoxicated thoughts. You want to scream his name till your vocal chords explode, you want to laugh – or cry (you're not exactly sure) – maybe both. He could ask anything from you right now, and you would accept in a heartbeat, yes yes yes. You wonder if you're going to die if he ever stops. Or rather, aren't you going to shatter into pieces if he goes on?_

_Aaaaaaaah, you can't take this anymore, this is too much. You need more of this – all of it, all of him, everything. Yes, everything should do._

_All of a sudden, the world around you goes blank. It lasts barely a second, and you come back to your senses. The moan escaping your mouth ceases, your muscles finally relax. You feel genetic material dripping from between your thighs, and you may be shaking a little. You look at him, still towering above you. Both of you are breathing heavily and look tired as hell. Despite that, a wide smile is etched on your face. He delicately pulls out, and plops down beside you._

"You're crazy" he whispers.

_You hum, putting your head on his torso._

"Look who's talking… I didn't think you could be so rough…" _you chuckle._

_He blushes, looking away._

"You're the one who asked for this."

_You grin, your fingers tracing random symbols on his bare skin._

"I didn't force you to do anything though." _you quip._

"… I guess."

"That was awesome."

_He blushes even more, but doesn't deny anything, so your smile widens. You decide to give poor Tavros a break, or else he's going to overheat – and not in the good way. You stand up to grab your clothes – snatching stealthily his shirt because yours is dirty – and kiss him again._

"I'm going to wash, see you later"

_On your way to the bathroom, you wonder how long it will take for him to realize his shirt is missing. Well, what did he expect? You're a thief after all – you want everything from him, and you'll get it._


	3. Making of History

Not exactly a side story, but still linked to White Eyes. About Mindfang and the Summoner.

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><p>Story 3 – Making of history<p>

_When Mindfang opened her eye, the Summoner was by her side, quietly weeping. She frowned._

"Why are you crying, dear matesprit of mine?"

_No reply. She extended her arm to hold his hand._

"There is no reason to cry."

"Of course there is!" _he cried._

_His free hand clenched into a fist and hit the ground ferociously._

"How could I not shed tears in this situation…?"

_She let out a sigh._

"You are still too kind" _she calmly said, inteweaving her fingers with his._ "You need to toughen up, even if you are still in your prime. Because if you do not, you will only get yourself killed…"

_A cough followed._

"I don't care! What's the point to carry on this rebellion anyway? What am I fighting for? This is a losing battle! I can't go on like this… Not on my own!"

_Her claws dug in his hand._

"I will pretend I did not hear any of the words that have come out of your mouth." _she hissed. _"Consider yourself lucky that I cannot move, or else I would have slapped you so hard your horns would have fallen off your head."

_He bit his lower lip, looking away._

"I'm sorry, Mindfang… That was foolish of me."

"That is better."

_Cough._

"Promise me you will fight this battle until the bitter end, as befits your role as one of the leaders of the rebellion's troops."

_Cough._

"Mindfang…"

"Do it." _she ordered through her teeth, gripping his hand._

_He wiped away his tears, and took a deep breath._

"I will."

_Cough._

"Swear it on my tomb."

"You're not dead yet!" _he faltered._

"Come on, _-cough-_ who are we kidding?"

_She wore a sarcastic smile, despite her coughs. Despite the lance sticking out of her heaving chest. Despite the pool of cerulean blood in which she was lying._

"I didn't want this to happen…!" _he finally said, brown tears once again welling up in his eyes. Cough._

"It was bound to happen. I _-cough-_ knew it all along."

_Her breathing was becoming increasingly labored, and some blood was dripping from the corners of her mouth._

"This is why… I want you to take _-breath-_ your lance, and fight for what you believe in -_cough-_. The Signless is counting on your strength."

_Cough. Breath._

"But if I take it out, you will die almost immediately…!"

"I would rather have _-cough-_ a swift death. This lance does not even look good in me. I liked having your own better _-cough-_, if you know what I mean…" _she said, trying to wink._

_The shadow of a smile appeared on the Summoner's face through the tears, and he brought her hand against his lips, kissing it, a laugh stuck in his throat._

"I'm going to miss you so much, Mindfang…!" _he whispered, his shoulders agitated by his cries._

_She didn't say anything in reply – she just coughed, holding his hand tight._

"It… hurts… Take out your lance…"

_Cough._

_He knew he had to – so he did. A splash of blood stained his clothes. He threw the lance away, falling to his knees._

"Thank you… love… I'm happy it was…you…"

_A last breath escaped her blue lips, putting an end to Mindfang's story._

_The Summoner went on to fight many battles with his lance, with Mindfang's spirit of rebellion. They would reunite sooner or later, and this time, he wouldn't hurt her anymore._


End file.
